For Fans of CSI

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Yesterday, there was a gas leak at the daycare. Because it was still early in the morning, I found myself staring bleakly out of my car window with the baby in the back seat. Should I make the one hour commute home and try to go back to sleep or run errands a pay bills? As I was driving down the highway, I looked in the rear view mirror at the little one and thought of all the things I did not do with her over the weekend. There was no putting her on her bike outside, no movies, no trip to the park or library. Nothing. I completed a few things necessary, and watched TV in my sweats all weekend.

Looking at her in the mirror, I remembered her snuggling up to me Sunday and saying she wanted to have a “conversation” and how amusing it was. With her head in the crook of my elbow, asked me if I was happy. I lied and told her I was. She smiled and started to sing “The Wheels on the Bus” to me, and I joined in on the second chorus.

I decided to make up this weekend to her despite wanting to go home and hide under the covers. I took out just enough money that wouldn't hurt the budget and we went clothes and toy shopping, to the indoor playground, and had lunch. A few hours later, I was looking at her chocolate smeared face sleeping happily in the mirror on the way home.

Just The Two of Us

As I sit here practicing the art of avoidance in a way that only those who don't want to deal with their shit can - I am remembering an earlier post. In that post I joked about how I need to leave here. My stay has been extended because there are important decisions regarding my mother that have to be made. Correction - I made the decision two years ago, and no one listened. Funny thing how people wait till things fall totally apart to take action. We've all done it - avoidance.

So, I busy myself with other projects so I don't have to take a good look at the current state of things. The only other time I have felt this way was the week of planning my father's funeral. The stay here has placed me in the extended presence of certain people I have worked hard to avoid. It started with mom becoming sick, my dad's death and the birth of my child. Those events set a chain of events in motion that led to this past week. My Dad is gone, my daughter (best thing that ever happened to me) is here, her father hasn't paid a cent in child support nor has he seen her in months. As I removed people from my life who were Stormy Weather friends, or hangers-on of my ex's (yep, I'm talking about you Ms. I'd rather be big fish in a small pond than a small fish...)or simply couldn't deal with my uppity attitude I felt stronger, yet sad.

Basically, what you've all been witnessing is the slow unraveling of my sense of security in the world and the spiraling into a depression. I'll be fine. I have a baby to take care of, so the necessary steps will be taken and it will get better. I reached out to someone in that unit this week and was shut down in a way that took my breath away due to the sheer unwarranted viciousness of the response.

In the meantime I realize that, while I have good friends, I do not have that unit that some of you are familiar with and rely on. Not really, not at all. I look at my daughter now and think: It's just you and me kid. And I'm okay with that.

Why are Black Women So Pissed?

I've been standing back watching the shit storm brewing around Jimi Izrael and his recent The Root.com blog posts. As a black woman, I understand the reactions that are pouring forth, but he's one man. One woman tweeted that she would rather perform fellatio on all the white men in Ohio than date Jimi. Really sister? Cos, damn, that's a little disturbing not to mention totally unhygienic.

I grew up in a town, in a neighborhood that was very integrated. Integrated as in black and white. More precisely - black men with white women was/is a common phenomenon. Even more common was the "black women ain't shit, are evil bitches, etc." sentiment. Not only didn't I buy into the nothing but a black man hype - I found it amusing that the majority of black women still did.

See, I don't hate black men or even dislike them. My father (the best man ever) was black. And if I take a honest look at the men I've dated, the one's who were the kindest were black. Why am I not married to one of them? Timing.

I date men who WANT to date me, that I have things in common with, have fun with, can talk to, and I'm attracted to. This means I've dated the rainbow because I am open to it. I'm not going to go sit and cry in a corner cos a black man wants someone that does not look like me. And if that is his clear preference, what would I want with him anyway? And any black woman that buys into the all black men are dogs doctrine, therefore the white or any other race of man is your savior - you're in for a rude awakening.

Psst: Sisters - a word please?
Just like you've learned that not all black men have a large penis (sorry black men, I know ya'll cling to that stereotype like a damn life raft) different means different, not better. Men are men, people are people, and issues are still issues. Love who is going to love you.


Right now I have chosen to take myself out of the dating scene. I wouldn't dare present myself to someone right now as a potential mate. Until I work through my issue of wanting to find my throw rotten fruit at any stage my deadbeat trifling' ass ex is on...see what I mean?

Since moving home, I have hit up the local bakery (shout out to Schuler's!) way too damn often and when I needed to hit the gym. I know what I'm working with - I'm cute (shout out to me in all my cuteness) have a degree, and a relatively successful career with great benefits. What I do not have is stability or peace. That's a process that I'm in the middle of. Trying to work through the all of the death, illness, crazy, toxic mofos, anger, sadness, and disappointment by myself isn't working. I would consult Deepak if I was chillin' in LA, but I'm going to have to visit a local instead.

In the meantime, I'm going to pop some corn and continue watching this great debate.